[she shies under his attention. his gaze intensifies with the breadth of his smile, as though beaming spotlights upon her by showing her what it felt like to be watched. it was a level of examination he would always expect of himself, these minute details... or at least what he'd hope for as he became more seasoned. her continued enthusiasm continues to shine, her cheery personality a charm point for sure.

another charm point? she'd said it before...]

Gorigori... [he snorts slightly, lifting a curled finger against his lower lip in amusement.] You have the right idea, sweetheart. Anywhere we can, in a moment of flashy brilliance-- that's when we take flight, and bring our stuff to the fans! Less like street performers, relegated to their corners... and more like we own the place.

[Mettaton's idea of a good show is one that has no boundaries, as what good was a show that couldn't take its audience by surprise? He spreads his arms, gazing around at the modest stone buildings, the creatures who dawdle down the streets with their heads low and a destination in sight- and he declares, planting his hands on his hips,]

We owe it to this place, to shake things up. ... What did you wish for, Freyja-darling?